


gorgeous

by csmithman



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Parties, Pining, Underage Drinking, discussion of naxzela and omega shield, klance pinefest, pretty much every character but keith and lance are background, sort of songfic, this is based on a taylor swift song so make of that what you will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 06:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18686188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csmithman/pseuds/csmithman
Summary: At a series of parties, Lance is forced to face the way he feels about Keith.





	1. you should take it as a compliment that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the [Klance Pinefest](https://klancepinefest.tumblr.com/) event, which was a lot of fun and encouraged me to start writing fanfic, so major props to Kay for starting this event. I signed up as a beta and somehow the group convinced me to write something, so this was a new step for me (though I've since published a few other fics).
> 
> This was my first fanfic idea. It's based on Taylor Swift's "Gorgeous," which you should listen to if you have not. I would listen to the song on my commute playlist and think "man that would really be great for Klance," so here it is!
> 
> I got to work with the amazing totesunrepentant for this fic! Dex, you're amazing and it's been a blast working with you! Art for this fic can be found [here](https://totesunrepentant.tumblr.com/post/184606802770/gorgeous-by-csmithman-you-left-he-repeated)!

Parties were fun. Lance liked parties.

Granted, Lance liked a lot of things. He liked being a paladin. “Defender of the Universe” really did have a nice ring to it. And even besides the optics, it was great being able to help people across the universe escape the tyranny of the Galra empire. He felt like he was actually accomplishing something, making a difference, changing things for the better.

And Lance _loved_ flying. After all, he had joined the Galaxy Garrison for a reason. Ever since he could remember, it was his dream to touch the sky and meet the stars, to leave the ground behind and soar. And no Garrison craft could come anywhere _near_ the lions. Piloting the Blue Lion was magnificent. There was nothing like it, no words he could use to describe the experience. The exhilaration… it was a feeling Lance knew he would never get tired of.

But no matter how much Lance loved flying, no matter how much he felt proud and fulfilled making the universe a better place… he would be lying if he said the parties weren’t one of his favorite parts.

He’s a people person, alright? Sue him. Space could be pretty lonely.

It didn’t happen every time they liberated a planet. Many planets were in too bad a shape to even _think_ about throwing a party for their saviors. And on those planets, often the paladins stuck around and helped with the rebuilding process. Saving the universe didn’t begin and end with just fighting the bad guys, of course. It also entailed _fixing_ things. Making things better, as best they could. Lance didn’t mind. Growing up on a farm, part of a large family, he wasn’t unfamiliar with manual labor. Plus, Altean technology made everything _so_ much easier than anything he’d done back in Cuba. So it was fine, rebuilding, helping entire species resettle, bringing peace and stability back. It was nice to be useful.

But every so often, they would liberate a planet that was still functional. Maybe it was a planet the Galra used to house soldiers, or even higher-ups. Maybe it was a major trading planet. Maybe the planet’s former leaders had brokered an alliance, sacrificed their liberty in exchange for material comfort. Whatever the reason, every so often they would do their paladin thing, chase off the Galra, save the day… and then get a reward.

A party.

And Lance could finally relax, could enjoy himself without the weight of the whole universe on his back. From the first, when they partied it up with the locals on Arus, he saw a lighter side of things, a brief spark of light in the often cold and dark life of a paladin of Voltron.

Honestly, he really did like being a paladin. He liked making a difference. But he _was_ only a teenager, after all. Too much pressure and he’d fold like a cheap suit. So letting loose every now and then at a fantastic party was the perfect remedy, let him recharge his batteries so he could get back to saving the universe with his team.

Sometimes, though… Sometimes he maybe let a little _too_ loose.

So there he was. The paladins were at a party on Daxul, the planet they had liberated the day before. It had been a fierce battle, lions in the sky, paladins on the ground, a concerted effort between Shiro, Keith, and Lance to combat the aerial fighters while Pidge and Hunk brought down the command center on the planet. They were ultimately successful, though there were a few close calls. Too close for Lance’s comfort. So when the Daxulli threw them a party -- after giving them a much needed day to rest -- Lance was more than ready to let off some steam.

And boy could the Daxulli throw a party. Lance looked around the grand chamber the paladins found themselves in, big enough to dwarf even the ballrooms in the Castle of Lions. The ceiling, which felt like it was miles above his head, was decorated with twinkling lights, some kind of bioluminescence, according to Coran. Delicate crystals decorated the walls, part of a natural growth rather than artificial adornment, but no less beautiful. The whole chamber was part of a natural system of caverns, but it was far more beautiful than any cave Lance had ever seen. He was in awe of the beauty surrounding him.

The denizens of Daxul matched the beauty of their halls. Tall and willowy, they were humanoids with delicate features and pale blue skin that glittered almost imperceptibly from tiny pink crystals that covered their bodies. The Daxulli were artisans, using the natural mineral beauty of their world to create all sorts of ornamentation, from delicate metal-wrought jewelry to massive statement pieces. The ostentatious regional overseer had coveted the planet’s resources, choosing to leave the planet intact in exchange for the Daxulli creating all sorts of treasures.

For years, the Daxulli had toiled, using skills that normally held great prestige, to benefit the Galra empire. When they had called the Castle of Lions, seeking help after hearing rumors that Voltron had returned, there wasn’t a smile to be seen. Lance’s initial impression had been that these aliens were far too serious, tending towards negativity and stoic suffering.

Looking around the room now, he was happy to see that he had been incredibly wrong.

The stoic faces had fled, leaving a carefree cheerfulness behind. With the Galra gone and the planet’s infrastructure still intact, there was far less rebuilding necessary to get things running again, meaning that the Daxulli were free to finally relax. They could let their hair down, so to speak (given that they didn’t actually _have_ any hair).

And let their hair down they did.

Music was playing, a live band somewhere on the other side of the room but the cavern’s natural acoustics ensuring that they could be heard no matter where one stood. Many of the Daxulli present were dancing, the elegance that made them such excellent artisans on full display. Lance had taken a turn or two about the room with some of the Daxulli he had met, and it was an experience he wanted to repeat.

For the moment, though, he was parked at the refreshments table with Hunk, who was rhapsodizing over the food on display. He was half listening to Hunk -- “edible _crystals_ Lance it’s food _and_ art!” -- and half swaying to the insistent beat of the music. After his dances, he needed a quick break -- it was hard to keep up with aliens over a foot taller than you -- and a drink. Daxul tended to be warmer than was strictly comfortable, even for the Cuban boy, and the exertion left him looking for refreshment.

That’s what led to the current predicament.

The Daxulli had provided a wide variety of food, but not much in terms of beverages. One was very obviously nunvill, to Coran’s delight, but Lance remembered the one occasion he had hazarded to try the drink and was not inclined to do so again.

That left two options, a pale purple drink that Pidge had informed him tasted like licorice, and a soft green concoction that smelled floral, but like no flowers on Earth. Given that he hated licorice, he decided to take a gamble on the floral drink.

It was good.

It was _really_ good.

Lance wasn’t sure he could do the drink justice if he tried to describe it, but he tried nonetheless.

“Hunk! Hunk it’s amazing!” He took another big gulp. “It tastes like… It’s kind of like... honeysuckle? Like, that warm sweetness? But also, like, fruity? Is it cherry? I think it’s cherry! You’d think flowers and cherry wouldn’t be a good combination but it is! It’s like drinking a summer day! But also not! It’s so refreshing!”

Lance’s mouth moved a mile a minute but Hunk didn’t mind.

“You’re _so_ right Lance! It is honeysuckle! Or, like, alien honeysuckle, I guess, I don’t think they actually have actual honeysuckle out here but wouldn’t that be cool? This stuff is good!”

Yeah, so... After a few (or maybe more than a few, it really was warm and the drink really was refreshing) they might have, maybe, come to the conclusion, probably, that the drink was alcoholic. Space alcoholic. Whatever. Linguistic technicalities aside, one thing was clear:

They were drunk.

 _Very_ drunk.

Luckily, it seemed that space alcoholic beverages were popular among the Daxulli, and Lance and Hunk didn’t stand out too much. Even among their own team, the effects of the beverages (nunvill, in Coran’s case) were obvious. Shiro was slumped over at a table, exhaustion and intoxication coming together to put their long-suffering space dad right out. Someone had put a shimmering blanket over him, though whether it was one of their hosts or an impish Pidge, Lance didn’t know. Coran and Allura were dancing with a group of Daxulli, laughing more than Lance had ever seen them. It was nice to see the Alteans let loose and relax. Allura had the weight of galaxies on her shoulders, and Coran was working so hard keeping Allura going. They deserved a chance to relax, though, remembering his own nunvill-induced hangover, Lance didn’t envy Coran the morning to come.

In fact, most of the people at the party were showing clear signs of intoxication. Luckily, it seemed Pidge’s licorice drink was (a) non-alcoholic and (b) a big hit with the younger guests. That was good, it was bad enough that Lance and Hunk were drunk, teenagers as they were, but Pidge was practically still a kid. It’s good that she was sober, Lance thought, proud of himself for the depth of thought (not realizing that he had said all this out loud, to Pidge, who was snickering into her licorice drink).

Lance was pretty sure there was only one person at the party who wasn’t either drunk or a juvenile. One person who wouldn’t relax, let down his (ugly) hair, live a little for once. One person who was standing against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, bayard close at hand, scowl on his face.

 _Keith_.

Lance grit his teeth in frustration.

Yesterday, during the aerial battle, Keith and Lance had been tackling the bulk of the fighters while Shiro tried to draw off support from the command center where Hunk and Pidge were hard at work, dismantling the Galra technological controls. It was rough. There were a lot of fighters for two lions, and Keith and Lance had yet to master the art of working together.

At one point, Lance had a fighter dead in his sights, but before he could engage his weapons, a sudden crash threw him off balance. He was stunned to realize that Keith had slammed into him. Despite their disagreements, Lance knew Keith was an excellent pilot, so it was unlikely that it was an accident. And Lance had thought Keith was above petty squabbles, at least while they were working.

Before he could catch his breath to lay into Keith for his recklessness, though, Lance saw the fighter he hadn’t known was right behind him veer off course to avoid crashing into Red. The two craft missed each other by bare inches, Keith’s skill as a pilot the only thing saving them both from a fiery crash. At the same time, one swipe of Red’s paw brought the fighter down, and Keith -- after maybe a second’s pause to regroup -- was off again.

Lance was speechless -- for once -- and it was hard to get his mind back on the battle.

Later, he tried to rationalize the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. He told himself that he was angry at Keith. Keith could have just _told_ him there was a fighter on his tail, instead of taking action and nearly knocking them both out of the fight. Keith probably thought Lance wasn’t a good enough pilot -- _cargo pilot_ rings in his head -- and didn’t trust Lance to take care of things. Keith was always so reckless, pushing the limits, doing things that didn’t need to be done. He wasn’t good at teamwork and he didn’t stop to think. So Lance had the right, he felt, to be angry, angry that his teammate didn’t trust him, angry that he put them both in danger, put the _mission_ in danger.

When that didn’t work, he told himself it was adrenaline. He had, after all, been in danger. Even if he didn’t know it at the time, a Galra fighter had had him in its sights, and could have ended the reign of Sharpshooter Lance disappointingly early. He told himself it’s only natural to feel upset after such a close call.

He didn’t let himself think about the fact that it had been a close call for _Keith_. Didn’t think about the fact that Keith put himself in danger to save Lance. Didn’t think about why he would be so upset if something had happened to Keith

They’re teammates. Their rivalry didn’t matter when they were in the sky.

And he _definitely_ didn’t let himself dwell on his first initial thought -- that that was the hottest display of talent he’d ever seen. Promptly put the thought out of his head and moved on with his life.

That’s what Lance told himself.

But now, with the pleasant haze of honeysuckle clouding his mind, he can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t stop thinking about _Keith_. Reckless Keith, angry Keith, why couldn’t Keith just relax? Just be a teenager?

Lance decided, right then and there, that it was his mission to get Keith to relax.

He grabbed another honeysuckle drink (and another for himself, too, why not) and moseyed on over to where Keith is standing, Hunk trailing along in his wake. As they drew near, Keith looked up and his scowl deepened.

Lance bristled, but decided to ignore it. He was going to get Keith to relax if it killed him. Payback for Keith’s assistance yesterday, of course. No other reason.

“Keith, my man!” He crowed as they reached the sulking red paladin. “You gotta try this, it’s great!”

His only response was a somehow even deeper scowl. Undeterred, Lance held out the drink, nudging Keith with it. Finally seeming to decide that it was better to hold the drink than to have Lance constantly poking him, Keith took it, though he didn’t drink any.

Lance cheered at this small victory, while Hunk smiled sheepishly. He held out the plate of snacks he’d brought over, offering them to Keith. When Keith took one, the scowl almost leaving his face, Lance couldn’t help but feel offended. When Keith took a small sip of the drink after a particularly spicy tidbit, though, he felt a surge of victory.

The food and drink did wonders for Keith’s temperament. He stayed on edge, his eyes constantly flitting about the room, landing on Shiro, still asleep, then Pidge, taking pictures of Shiro, and finally Allura and Coran, holding court with a group of Daxulli, all laughing uproariously at some joke or story Coran must have been telling. But despite his fighter’s instincts, Keith relaxed. Just a little. His shoulders moved the slightest bit downward. He started having a pleasant conversation with Hunk about the food. He even, almost, sort of, smiled. Just a little bit.

Lance wasn’t sure why the sight of that almost smile made him feel like he’d drunk too much nunvill again. Or, at least, he told himself he wasn’t sure.

Desperate to change the direction of his thoughts, Lance tuned into their conversation. They were talking about the party on Arus, and the fun snacks they’d eaten there. Lance remembered the tasty treats the Arusians had prepared, a delightful change from the space goo they’d been eating.

He ruminated fondly on that first party, the first time he had been able to relax since coming to space. Bad experience with nunvill aside, it had been fun. As they stopped talking about the food, Lance jumped in with his own remembrances.

“Yeah, what a party! Those Arusians really know how to live it up, eh?” He nudged Keith playfully with his elbow, missing the way Keith stiffened in response.

“Oh man,” Hunk interjected, oblivious to the red paladin’s increasing discomfort with Lance’s proximity. “Remember that ritual dance they did? Like, they were weird, but they were also really cool.”

“Yeah, the Arusians were fun,” Lance sighed, remembering the first aliens -- well, aside from Allura and Coran -- that they had met. “Remember when their fiercest warrior showed up and Keith was ready to skewer him?” Keith stiffened again, all traces of relaxation fleeing, but Lance didn’t notice, too caught up in the memory.

“He was so little! And so cute!” Hunk exclaimed.

“And there’s Keith, sword drawn. Ready to defend the princess!”

Keith’s scowl was firmly back on his face, obviously not pleased with the direction the conversation had taken.

Lance didn’t notice. He was happy, he was relaxed. He was… maybe still really annoyed at Keith for his actions yesterday.

“Remember when I tried to do that chant?”

“Lance…” Hunk trailed off, mirth fading as he finally noticed Keith’s discomfort. Unfortunately, Hunk was far more sober than Lance, whose mouth seemed unable to stop.

“Keith was all ‘voltron?’ Like come on, dude! It’s not that hard! I say ‘vol,’ you say ‘tron!’ But he’s all ‘v-voltron?’ It’s a chant, dude! You say the ‘tron!’”

Lance finally registered the hand Hunk had placed on his arm, finally registered the fierce glare on Keith’s face, finally registered that _he needed to stop talking, right now, five minutes ago preferably_.

But it was too late.

Keith stormed past Lance, clipping his shoulder as he went in a mockery of yesterday’s actions in the battle. Lance turned and watched him walk away, stalking over to check on Shiro. After assuring himself that their leader was alright, Keith hefted Shiro’s bulk, throwing one arm over his shoulder, and carried the black paladin out, only stopping briefly to (presumably) let Pidge, the only sober paladin left, know that he was leaving.

Lance watched all this with a growing sense of dismay. He found he was rapidly sobering up, realizing too late just how cruel he’d sounded. As Keith stalked out without a single glance back, Lance realized that he’d gone too far.

“I messed up,” he told Hunk, who patted him comfortingly on the shoulder in response.

Lance told himself that he felt bad because he had hurt a teammate. Told himself that it wasn’t a good way to repay Keith’s almost sacrifice the day before. Clearly, he was feeling guilty over his uncouth behavior towards someone who deserved, at the very least, respect.

That was all.

Nothing else.

Lance told himself that he believed that. He didn’t.


	2. you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong

Keith had protested the party.

Actually, that’s putting it _very_ mildly.

Keith had _raged_ against the party. Had railed against Allura for even suggesting they entertain the invitation. Had thrown his helmet across the control room when Coran said it would be undiplomatic to refuse. Had eventually stormed off, most likely to the training room, where he wouldn't have to face any of his teammates.

Lance kind of had to admit that Keith wasn’t being completely irrational.

After all, how could they celebrate when Shiro was gone?

It had been weeks, now. Maybe more. It was hard to keep track of time in space, where there was no night and no day and all kinds of different units of time. Too long, that’s all he knew. It had been too long since anyone had seen Shiro.

At first, all efforts had been put to finding their lost leader. No effort was spared, all hands on deck, Allura even calling on their allies to spread the word: be on lookout for the black paladin.

As time went on, though, and no sign of Shiro, efforts had slowed down. Their allies stopped checking in regularly, stating that they would instead reach out if they had any news to report. But they had things to do, work of their own, and they couldn’t all keep looking. Especially when it became clearer and clearer that there was nothing to look for.

Spurred on by Keith, the inhabitants of the Castle of Lions had kept looking. Keith was adamant that Shiro was still out there, but Lance could tell that the others were starting to have their doubts. No one would tell Keith that Shiro was probably long gone, but they, too, had things to do. The universe wasn’t going to save itself while they sat around looking for Shiro.

No one said that, of course. They all missed Shiro. Nobody wanted him gone. Everyone would be ecstatic to find him. They may not have been as intense as Keith, but they all missed their friend and leader.

But eventually, need won out.

They needed to find a new paladin. They needed to be able to form Voltron. They needed to start going on missions again as a united team. Rumors were flying that Voltron was no more, and their reputation was a vital part of their efforts to eradicate the Galra.

And then they’d found their new leader, the new black paladin.

Although he initially thought he’d be furious that Keith was the new leader, furious that Keith had once again eclipsed him, furious to be always second best, Lance found himself in the odd position of being the one to comfort _Keith_. Keith wasn’t excited to be black paladin. He was upset. Lance couldn’t understand -- if he’d been chosen, he probably wouldn’t shut up about it -- but he knew they wouldn’t be very successful if Keith didn’t step up and if the team didn’t unite behind him.

So Lance found himself, against all odds, as the new _red_ paladin. The right hand of Voltron, second-in-command, Keith’s closest confidante. It was astonishing to consider, given their long-standing rivalry, the enmity Lance felt for the hotheaded former red paladin.

But Lance saw that the mission was more important than any one of them, let alone his petty feelings. Which isn’t to say he was going to be best friends with Keith or anything. No sir. They were still _rivals_ , okay? Bitter enemies. Lance didn’t _want_ to suddenly find himself close to the other boy. _Definitely_ didn’t enjoy their time together now that they were actually talking, instead of fighting. There was _no way_ Lance could see Keith as a friend.

It was just for the mission. For the good of the universe.

That’s all.

But while he missed Blue, and often struggled to find his footing in this new Voltron, Lance soon settled in as Keith’s right hand man. He soon found that he could talk to Keith about serious things and break through Keith’s focus when the leader was about to make a mistake. Keith listened to Lance, miraculously, and with the two of them working together, it wasn’t long before Voltron was back up and running, like nothing had changed.

But that didn’t mean things _hadn’t_ changed.

So when the team liberated Kar’took and were invited to a celebration in their honor, it was hard to know what to do. It was the first time anyone had tried to celebrate Voltron since Shiro had gone missing. They’d been working with mostly more damaged planets, or working in smaller teams rather than the whole of Voltron, so for a time there just wasn’t a question of parties.

But now that the question had come up, what were they to do?

Unfortunately, Allura and Coran were right. Kar’took would be a valuable addition to their burgeoning coalition, and it wouldn’t do to offend anyone by declining. Plus, it would be good for the members of Voltron to be seen again. It wasn’t like they had to hide the fact that Shiro was gone, after all, since they had clearly broadcasted his disappearance time and again in hopes that someone, somewhere, would find him. This party would be the perfect place to introduce the new team, to show that the Princess of Altea was willing to get her hands dirty and do the hard work herself. It would be the perfect place to reveal their new black paladin and leader.

That is, it _would have_ been the perfect place, had their leader not decided to throw a massive hissy fit.

Again, Lance understood. Even he, social butterfly that he was, didn’t look forward to a party while the team was still pretty broken up over Shiro. He knew that he would put on his best smile, be charming, and schmooze with the Kar’toans, but he wasn’t sure he would enjoy it as much as he usually did.

But they needed to go.

And since, for whatever reason, Lance was the one Keith listened to lately, it was his job to convince Keith.

He found Keith in the observatory. More and more lately, he’d found that if Keith wasn’t training, he was in the observatory. Since that was one of Lance’s favorite places on the castleship, he understood why Keith was drawn to it. The room had a vast transparent ceiling, allowing for an unbelievable look at the beauty of space surrounding them. Since they were often on the go, the stars were always changing. It was a soothing reminder that, no matter how off track their lives had gone, they all had originally wanted to see space.

“Hey man,” Lance said quietly, walking over to where Keith was sitting and joining him on the floor.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Keith interjected before Lance could even figure out how to start.

He sighs. Looks like this will be a _fun_ conversation.

“I get it, I really do,” he began. “It seems… _wrong_ to have a party right now. Like, maybe it would be a betrayal of Shiro to have fun. But if you think about it… I think Shiro would want us to go. He wouldn’t want us to shut ourselves away, brood in the dark and isolate ourselves from our allies and our friends. Not to mention the fact that Allura’s right, we really do _have_ to go. We can’t afford to isolate ourselves, because we need allies to win this war. You know Shiro would want us to do our jobs.”

Keith had started out glaring, clearly angry that Lance was insisting on talking about it even after he tried to rebuff him. But as Lance went on, his words seemed to get through to Keith, whose shoulders went down ever so slightly. Keith was clearly still sad, still angry. But he seemed almost ready to give in. Lance went in for the kill.

“I didn’t know Shiro as well as you did. None of us did. But clearly he believed in you. He wanted you to be the new leader, saw that you were capable of leading. I know I was upset at first, and I didn’t think you’d be a good leader, but I see now that Shiro was right. He’d be so proud of you, you know.” He paused, giving Keith a cheeky grin. “Even more proud if you went to this party and behaved diplomatically.”

At that, Keith smiled. It wasn’t a big smile. It was still tinged with sadness. But Lance’s words had done their job. Keith’s smile grew a little as he bumped his shoulder against Lance’s.

“I think he’d be really proud of both of us, for getting along. Possibly shocked, actually.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” Lance rebutted. “As soon as Shiro comes back, I’m going back to hating you. No friendship, no siree. Just rivalry.”

Rather than take offense at his words, Keith seemed to sense that Lance was joking. They laughed together at the thought of Shiro seeing them actually get along for once before getting quiet again. As they settled down, both looking out the viewscreen, Lance felt a sense of peace. Being a paladin wasn’t easy, and things were worse now that they had seen, if not death, then at least loss. But, with Keith’s warm presence at his side, he thought things could be much worse.

“Come on,” he said as he stood up, extending a hand to Keith. “We’ve got a party to get ready for.”

Keith stared at Lance’s hand for a moment before grasping it and pulling himself upright. He overextended himself and ended up just a hair too close to Lance, who froze at the proximity. Keith’s eyes were really pretty, he thought, not for the first time. But for the first time, he let himself dwell on that thought. Keith’s eyes were unique, like nothing Lance had ever seen before, possibly due to his Galra heritage. Almost blue and not quite purple and full of mystery, Keith’s eyes looked like nothing more than the sky outside the window to Lance’s right.

Realizing the direction of his thoughts -- and that he had probably been staring at Keith’s eyes, while holding Keith’s hand, for too long -- he cleared his throat and pulled away.

“Better hurry,” he said to cover the awkwardness. “We’re probably missing a nice lecture from Coran on proper etiquette in Kar’toan society. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want a repeat of the Queltan incident.”

At the reminder of one of their earlier diplomatic failures -- wherein Pidge had somehow offended the leader of a planet, which they then had to make up for with an intricate and embarrassing dance -- Keith laughed, breaking the tension. The two headed out, and Lance was pleased that he had successfully managed to get Keith out of his hiding place and ready to go along with the party.

Several hours later, Lance was feeling less successful.

To be sure, the party was going well. Armed with Coran’s diplomatic prowess, they had made a good impression on Kar’toans, who were thrilled to have their saviors in their very halls. The party itself was fun, an excellent mix of conversation and entertainment making sure that no one had a minute to feel bored.

The Kar’toans were great hosts. They’d provided refreshments suitable to human beings, as their typical fare would have been poisonous for any of the Earthlings to consume (though Coran insisted they were just a little spicy). Taking into account that the paladins were all rather young, they’d invited a good number of young Kar’toans, ensuring that they had company that was more suitable than stuffy old diplomats (though there were plenty of those around, too).

Allura was thrilled to report that things were going well. Not only were the paladins having a good time, but they were making a good impression on the Kar’toans, who were ready and willing to join the coalition. Since Kar’took had excellent natural resources that would be a boon to revolutionary efforts across the region, it was a big score for team Voltron.

All in all, Lance should have been having a great time. He’d met some really pretty younger Kar’toans -- sure, they may have looked a bit like an overgrown potted plant, but they were still humanoid -- who had hung on his every word when he regaled them with stories of his missions as a paladin. He’d had a blast watching a quick stage show. Although he wasn’t sure what the plot was, the special effects were amazing for a small stage, and he was very impressed by what the Kar’toans managed to accomplish. He’d even managed to coax Allura into a turn about a small dance floor, succeeding in getting her to relax for the first time in far too long. When she laughed with delight while he twirled her about, he knew he had done well.

So why was it that he couldn’t seem to enjoy himself?

That was a dumb question. Lance knew _exactly_ why he wasn’t having a good time, and it had everything to do with the fact that the black paladin, after staying just long enough to be polite, had snuck out of the hall. Lance had seen the grimace on Keith’s face as social nicety after social nicety dragged on, forcing him to be polite and friendly when that was never Keith’s forte. It wasn’t a surprise when Keith snuck out at the first opportunity. But having been the one to convince Keith to come to the party in the first place -- having suggested that it would be nice for them to have fun -- Lance couldn’t help but feel like a failure.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to have any fun with Keith being gone. So, naturally, he took the opportunity to sneak out as well.

The Kar’toans had offered lodgings in the central city for the paladins, in the same building that the party was in. They had wanted the paladins to be able to truly relax, and to be able to go straight to sleep after finishing the festivities without unnecessary travel. When they were shown around earlier that evening, Lance had been impressed by the splendor of the building. While it was a little utilitarian for his tastes, he had to admit that the Kar’toans had done beautiful work with what they had. He’d also noted what looked like a greenhouse, but might have been a nursery for all he knew. Keith had lingered in the doorway as the tour moved on, and Lance figured it was the best place to look for him.

Sure enough, Keith was settled on a bench at the end of the long, glass-enclosed room. As Lance stepped in, he was pleased to note that the greenhouse was several degrees warmer than the surrounding chambers. He let the warmth seep into his skin as he walked over to sit by his teammate.

“Hey man,” he said as he walked up, careful not to spook Keith, who had been focusing intently on the sky above the glass ceiling. Keith looked over and smiled, scooting over to make room on the bench, but didn’t say anything. Taking his lead, Lance also sat quietly. He looked up at the sky like Keith, and was rewarded with a beautiful view. Kar’took had a heavier copper presence than Earth, making the skies a gorgeous dark green color. Heavy dark blue clouds dotted the sky, and Kar’took’s three moons were visible, a gleaming white.

It was magnificent. Combined with the warmth of the room and the presence of the boy at his side, Lance finally relaxed. For the first time all evening, he was happy to be where he was.

Eventually, Keith broke the silence, seeming confused about why Lance was there.

“I thought you’d be having fun at the party,” he said, a question evident in his tone.

“Ah, it was a little crowded,” Lance replied, unwilling to reveal that he had been missing Keith.

“You… you don’t have to check on me, Lance,” Keith interjected, sounding a little frustrated. “I’m fine. It’s not your job to make sure I’m okay, or babysit me.”

Lance sat back, a little chagrined.

Did Keith think that Lance was doing some sort of job, filling some sort of quota? “Once an hour, check on Keith,” check box, done? He’d made a joke about their rivalry earlier, but surely Keith knew they were sort of friends?

Maybe he’d done a little _too_ good a job pretending that he didn’t care about Keith.

“I always check on my friends,” he said, softly. “It may not be my job, but I do care about whether or not you’re okay. When I saw you leave, I was worried that this was all too much, that we were putting too much pressure on you. I’m not checking on you because I feel like I have to. I just thought you might not want to be alone.”

At that, Keith seemed to slump a little.

“I was kind of lonely,” he admitted. “It’s hard. I’ve never been the most… _social_ person, but at least before I could go bug Shiro, or laugh with Pidge whenever Shiro did something embarrassing. With him gone, and with me suddenly in the spotlight, I wasn’t sure what to do. I came out here for some air, but I felt bad about leaving the party. Thanks for coming to check on me.”

“Of course,” Lance offered with a smile that Keith hesitantly returned.

“That being said,” Keith began with a _tone_ , “you can go back to the party. You don’t have to stay out here with me, I know you like hanging out with people. I saw you with those girls earlier--”

“Loverboy Lance does love the ladies,” Lance shot out with a grin.

“-- _like I was saying_ ,” Keith continued, determined to ignore “Loverboy Lance,” “you can go back inside. You’ve checked on me. I’m fine. Go have fun.”

Lance hesitated. Sure, he liked parties, and sure, he had fun socializing. But, he realized with a bit of a start, he would much rather spend the rest of his night out here, in the warm greenhouse, looking at Kar’took’s beautiful skies. With Keith.

“I’d rather stay out here,” he admitted quietly, not missing the startled glance Keith shot at him before looking quickly away. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed.

They sat in silence for a while, looking up at the sky and enjoying the companionable silence. As he noticed Keith finally relaxing, Lance felt proud. He’d done well.

“Wanna hear a story?”

“A story?” Keith seemed confused.

“Yeah, the greenhouse reminded me of this one time me and my sister were at the farmer’s market with mama…”

Lance told Keith a lot of stories that night, Keith laughing at all the right places and Lance feeling more connected to home than he had in a while. The sky was nearly mint in color when Pidge found them, asleep on the bench with their heads together.


	3. you should take it as a compliment that I’m talking to everyone here but you

Lance sighed. Another day, another party. The shine had worn off, and Lance didn’t enjoy himself as much at these parties anymore.

Part of the problem was overexposure. Before, parties were a rare but welcome break from the harsh world they lived in. When you spent most of your time fighting a war against a seemingly impossible to defeat foe, risking life and limb on a daily basis, far away from anything and anyone you’d ever known, then yeah, parties were great. It was the perfect chance to unwind and relax a little. Destress. Recharge.

But lately, there had been too many parties. Lance knew it was shocking for him to say so, but there really were. It was all because of The Voltron Show. As they became intergalactic superstars, more and more people started following the exploits of the paladins of Voltron. It was a good thing, really. As Voltron became more and more famous, they had an easier time finding allies, finding resources.

It did come with a clear downside, though. Voltron had _fans_. And those fans could get a little intense. In the height of the Voltron furor, there was party after party, all helpfully arranged by Coran and Bi Boh Bii. Some were simple meet and greets, where team Voltron would smile, and shake hands, and pose for pictures. The fans would be ecstatic to meet their favorite superstars -- one alien had even passed out when she shook Hunk’s hand -- but generally okay. Every so often they would get a little handsy, or try and press a screenplay on them, or otherwise annoy the paladins. But most of the time the meet and greets were simple and easy.

The parties, though? Not so much. Every so often Bi Boh Bii would arrange a big, fancy shindig, invite all the big names in the sector, and instruct the paladins to _schmooze_. Schmooze like their lives depended on it. Which would be fine, really, if the parties actually accomplished anything. Lance would schmooze til the cows came home if it meant more allies, better supplies, a greater shot at beating the Galra. That would be a worthy use of his time.

That’s not what happened at these parties. Instead, these parties were full of self-important regional governors, socialites with more money than manners, the occasional tortured artist or ditzy pop star, all jammed in a ballroom much less enticing than many a natural wonder Lance had seen, that was usually way too warm and far too loud. Everyone would talk over all the others in the room, desperate to keep the focus on themselves. There would be too expensive food that was either so disgusting even the gremlin Pidge wouldn’t touch it, or so miniscule that it was nowhere near enough to fill a person. These parties accomplished nothing but raising the paladins’ blood pressure and making them long for a fierce battle to work out their aggression on some Galra.

Luckily, once Coran had come down from his weird alien-creature-induced drug trip and realized how insane he’d been acting, those parties stopped. The Voltron Show took an extended break and the paladins could get back to the real work. That was better.

But, despite the fact that he was currently at a coalition party, surrounded by allies, good food, pleasant music, and a chance to actually relax, Lance found himself still unhappy. This wasn’t a fancy party, this was just people he liked and trusted, celebrating together before some big mission that was coming up. He should be having fun.

He wasn’t.

And he knew exactly why, and it had everything to do with the _other_ reason he hadn’t enjoyed a party in a long time. Had everything to do with the too short Marmora agent he’d just seen across the room at Kolivan’s side.

A Marmora agent with _black hair_. Black hair in an ugly mullet.

Only the mullet wasn’t ugly. Not at all.

And that was the problem.

 _Keith_ was the problem.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Keith wasn’t the problem. Lance was. Or, rather, Lance’s _feelings_.

It had been a long road for the two of them. They’d started off as bitter rivals, antagonism only outweighed by the mission at hand. They were forced to work together for the good of the entire universe, and even still they found ways to snipe at each other. Looking back, Lance could see that he’d instigated most of it, immature and jealous and determined to prove his worth.

Over time, bitter rivalry had turned into reluctant partnership. The two were often paired off on missions, Lance’s long range focus a perfect foil for Keith’s close combat skills. Their mutual recklessness led to risky maneuvers that, more often than not, brought the team a win (even if they brought Shiro extra gray hairs).

And somehow, over time, that reluctant partnership turned into a genuine friendship. Somewhere along the line Lance stopped being angry at the sight of Keith’s mullet and started appreciating it. Stopped being angry at being forced to work together, and started looking forward to it.

The real tipping point was when Keith became the new black paladin and Lance became his right hand. Suddenly, all they had in common was far more important than all they didn’t. Petty squabbles were tossed aside in favor of pooling their skills. Keith respected Lance’s input, and Lance supported Keith’s leadership. They were partners, equals. Even if Keith was technically the leader, the way he relied on Lance for help made Lance feel like he could actually contribute something to the team.

The more they worked together, huddled together over battle plans, sparring in the training arena, just relaxing (usually at Lance’s insistence), Lance realized that their rivalry was a waste of time. Instead of being rivals, they could have been friends this whole time. Lance had been missing out, throwing away a chance at someone who really got him, all over jealousy? Well, no longer.

Because Lance had finally realized that, miracle of miracles, when they weren’t fighting, he actually liked Keith.

And then Lance had realized, horror of horrors, that he _liked_ Keith.

It wasn’t a welcome realization, to say the least. He and Keith were finally getting along, the last thing he needed to do was throw feelings into the mix. Their partnership was good for the team, good for each other, good for the quiznacking _universe_. He couldn’t throw that away for a stupid crush.

Because he was absolutely certain that he would destroy the easy trust between them if he said anything. Because there was no way in hell that Keith felt the same, not talented Keith, pretty Keith, interesting Keith. Why would he be interested in a boy from Cuba whose talent was far eclipsed by his big mouth?

Over time, though, Lance began to wonder _what if_. He told himself he didn’t even know if Keith was into guys. ( _Have you seen the way he dresses_ , his mind supplied unhelpfully.) He told himself that Keith would never be interested in someone like Lance when he could, if he wanted, have anyone. ( _That was amazing, Lance!_ Keith said after a mission where Lance had been able to put his sharpshooting skills to good use, saving Keith from an unexpected enemy. Lance _definitely_ didn’t preen at the attention.)

When all else failed, when hope sparked in his chest, when he noticed Keith’s eyes lingering during training, when the _what ifs_ became _maybes_ and it started to overwhelm him, Lance reminded himself of the mission. Reminded himself it came first, and that Keith would never forget that, and that nothing would happen. Because the mission came first.

Until one mission where Lance had put himself in danger to accomplish an important, but not strictly necessary task. Until Keith came by his room after he was released from the infirmary, purple eyes spouting fire, furious at Lance. Lance had apologized, saying he was sorry he’d jeopardized the mission, promising to be more careful.

And then Keith had raged that he didn’t care about the quiznacking mission, he cared about _Lance_. That he didn’t want to see Lance hurt. That it was vital that Lance took care of himself.

And at the look in Keith’s eyes, the tiny spark of hope in Lance’s chest blazed into an inferno.

But then.

But _then_.

Before Lance could do anything, before he could act on that hope, everything changed.

Keith _left_.

Keith left team Voltron to join the Blade of Marmora full time, throwing himself into _their_ mission. Lance knew it was his fault, knew -- though of course Keith didn’t say -- that Keith was stepping aside for him, making sure Lance had a place. Poor pathetic Lance, who needed a place, who would be the first to go when there were six pilots but five lions. He didn’t call Keith out on it, _couldn’t_ call Keith out on it, but he _knew_.

And he _hated_ it. Because while Keith thought he was doing the right thing, thought he was helping Lance, he missed one vital thing.

Keith left _Lance_.

Anything they might have built, all that they had blossoming between them, even the easy friendship they had both grown to enjoy -- Keith had left it all behind. Left Lance behind, alone, forced to get by without the person who had somehow, against all odds, become his best friend, his trusted partner, his favorite person.

And Lance was furious.

And now here they were, in the same room for the first time since Keith had left them for good. Lance had seen Keith, of course. Occasionally the Blade would confer with Allura, and whenever Kolivan called, Keith was visible in the background. Even with the masks, Keith was always obvious, a head shorter than any other agent. And on the rare occasion Keith was unmasked, Lance refused to let himself look, refused to let his eyes search Keith for injuries, refused to let his heart ache at the sight of the other boy.

Because he was hurt, sure. But he was also angry. Angry that Keith had thrown everything they had away. And he wasn’t ready to forgive. Not yet.

So with the two of them finally in the same room, Lance refused to let himself seek Keith out. Forcibly dragged his eyes away and set himself on a mission. He might not be enjoying himself, might be tired of parties, might be aching at how much he missed his former partner. But by quiznak, he wasn’t going to show it.

He was going to have a good time. No matter what it took.

It was time for social butterfly Lance to emerge from his cocoon.

Lance focused on having a good time with all the single-minded focus he usually reserved for missions. He set his goal -- show Keith he was doing _just fine_ thank you very much -- and went about accomplishing it with the laser focus he applied to his shooting.

With a huge smile on his face, Lance set about partying. He didn’t stop moving for what felt like hours. He went to where Pidge and Matt were talking to some of the rebels, teasing Pidge for her unabashed excitement over the rebels’ tech, getting to know their newest allies, joking with Matt, who he’d found was a lot of fun. He slid over to where Hunk was in conversation with their caterer, a Galra named Vrepit Sal, chiming in with witty rejoinders and making his best friend laugh. He coaxed Allura out onto the dance floor, determined to make her forget about their upcoming mission, even if only for a moment, and was rewarded with her sparkling laugh as they twirled. Then he took _Coran_ on the dance floor, following along as the older man led them in some sort of traditional Altean dance that involved far too much moving for Lance’s tastes. He even managed to chat up some of the younger Marmorans, ones he hadn’t met before, charming them with his smile and his flattery. It never hurt to make their Galra allies into friends, after all.

Through it all, he very determinedly did not look at Keith. Did not wonder if Keith was having fun. Did not think about how much he wanted to dance with Keith. Did not ask the Marmorans about their half-human teammate. He did his best to put Keith entirely out of his mind. Keith who?

But it turns out being social when you don’t want to is tiring. After a few hours of aggressive socializing and intense ignoring, he was exhausted. The party was still in full swing -- turns out Galra _really_ let loose when they partied, he was sure they’d be going for hours more -- but he needed a break.

Just a quick break. Then he’d be back and better than ever, Lancey Lance in finest form.

He slipped out of the ballroom, roaming the halls lazily, no real destination in mind. The party was on the castleship, it being the biggest (and likely grandest) location available to the coalition. After the party wound down, everyone would get some sleep -- the castleship having a number of guest rooms -- and then tomorrow they would get down to business and prepare for their important mission to Naxzela.

Lance wasn’t surprised when his feet led him to the observatory. Even after so long on the castleship, after he’d explored every nook and cranny of the ship (it tried to kill him once, after all, he wouldn’t give it a second chance), the observatory was still his favorite place.

It didn’t matter how long he was in space. Lance never tired of looking at the stars.

Lance wasn’t sure how much time had passed, could have been ticks or vargas for all he knew, but eventually he heard the door swoosh open. He wasn’t worried; there was nobody on the ship who would do him harm, and he had his bayard with him just in case anyway. Whoever entered the room, they would probably make polite conversation and head back to the party. Or maybe it was Hunk or Pidge, coming to check on him.

He stayed relaxed, eyes still on the stars in front of him, waiting for his unexpected visitor to either politely greet him or leave without a word. He got neither.

“You’re avoiding me.”

Every ounce of relaxation fled Lance at the sound of Keith’s voice. His shoulders tensed, but he kept looking forward, determined not to look at Keith lest he give himself away.

“I’m avoiding everybody,” he drawled, “in case you hadn’t noticed. That’s usually what it means when someone leaves a party and goes to a room by himself.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Keith replied, frustration evident in his tone. He moved closer until he eventually folded himself onto the floor beside Lance, soundless in his Marmora stealth suit.

Lance didn’t flinch. Definitely not.

“No, I don’t know.”

Keith sighed.

“Of course you’d be difficult,” he muttered. “You never make anything easy for me. Come on, Lance. You know you’re avoiding me. Downstairs you were talking to everyone, making jokes and dancing and socializing, but you wouldn’t even _look_ at me. What gives?”

“Oh Keith,” Lance crooned sarcastically, “were you jealous?”

A caustic grin on his face, Lance finally turned to look at the boy beside him.

Big mistake.

He wasn’t prepared for the open honesty on Keith’s face. Wasn’t prepared for the clear distress, the yearning, the -- yes -- jealousy.

Definitely wasn’t prepared for how pretty Keith’s eyes were up close, because they were definitely sitting _very_ close.

Lance faltered. He couldn’t tease Keith, not like this. Not now.

“Sorry,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “Guess I’m just not feeling it right now.” He winced at the clear bitterness in his tone.

“Are you -- are you mad at me for something?”

“No, how could I be angry?” Lance felt himself gearing up for a fight. Avoidance didn’t work, apparently, but maybe it’d be good to get it all out there. Maybe he’d feel better after he yelled at Keith for a bit. _Just like old times_. He didn’t dwell on why that was so disappointing.

“What is your _problem_?” Good old Keith. Always ready for a fight.

“My problem is _you!_ ”

“What are you talking about? I thought we were past this, I thought we were friends. Why are you mad at me? What did I do?”

“You _left_.”

Lance’s words, too loud for the space they were in, rang in the air. Keith seemed stunned, pulling back slightly, a look of confusion on his face. They were still sitting very close together, turned to face each other, breathing heavily. Lance felt the anger drain out of him, leaving nothing but an extreme weariness. He turned away.

“You _left_ ,” he repeated, much calmer this time. “You left the team, left when we were finally getting our feet under us. Left us hanging, missing one of our best paladins. You left _me_ ,” this last whispered.

“I left _for_ you,” Keith answered, quiet as well. He seemed upset at what he revealed, as if Lance didn’t already know.

“I _know_.” Lance laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That’s the worst of it. You left because of me. It’s my fault. You left Voltron when you were the best we had, because of me. You left the team so I would have a place, because I’m so pathetic that you needed to leave so I could stay. It’s my fault you’re gone, my fault you’re with the Blade.”

“ _No_ , Lance.” There was a quiet anguish in Keith’s tone. “I left because it would be better for the team if you were here instead of me. Me, all I did was put us in danger, make stupid mistakes. That’s better suited for the Blade, where no one else would be in danger, where no one cares if I get hurt. But you belong here. I knew you would take care of the team. You always do. You _needed_ to be here. I didn’t.”

Lance sat in silence, trying to absorb what Keith was saying. He thought, with hollow amusement, that they were idiots. Both thought the other was better, the other deserved to be here, when the truth was that they were both good, but far better when they were together. And he was a bigger idiot for avoiding Keith all night when it was a perfect opportunity to spend time together, when he didn’t know how long it would be before they were able to meet up again ( _if_ they met up again, he thought, every day was a gift and they were about to go on a big mission, after all).

What a waste of time.

He reached out and put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith, who had been looking dejectedly at the ground, looked up at the gesture, eyes filled with hope even as he tensed against whatever Lance would say next.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I still think you should have stayed. But I’d rather spend time catching up with you than fighting over something so stupid.”

Keith smiled, just a little thing, but it warmed Lance’s heart and reminded him of just why he was so hurt in the first place -- because he was missing this.

“I missed you,” Keith admitted, echoing Lance’s thought.

“Yeah, I missed you too, buddy. It’s not the same around here without you.” Keith’s smile grew bigger, but Lance sobered, remembering something Keith had said. “You’re wrong, though. People care if you get hurt. You may have left the team but we still care about you, _I_ care about you. Try and remember that so you don’t do anything _too_ stupid.”

The smile left Keith’s face and he seemed to fold in on himself, a little. Clearly working for the Blade was taking its toll. Lance wondered just how many times Keith had done something stupidly reckless in pursuit of the mission.

“You want to talk about it?” He squeezed Keith’s shoulder, just a little, to let the other boy know he was there to listen.

Keith seemed to think about it -- wavered -- almost giving in. But then he shook his head, a tiny smile reappearing.

“Nah,” he said. “I don’t want to focus on it. I wanna hear about you. Tell me what’s been going on. What happened with The Voltron Show?”

Taking the hint, Lance steered the conversation to lighter topics. He talked for hours, telling Keith about all the wacky things that had been happening. When he ran out of stories, they sat in silence for a little while, looking out at the stars and enjoying each other’s company. Lance spent the rest of the evening with Keith pressed against his side, occasionally talking, often just sitting.

He never did end up going back to the party.


	4. you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room

Lance looked around the room, smiling at the sight of so many happy people. His eyes stopped as they reached his mother, laughing with her arm around Veronica, who was probably telling the small crowd around her interesting stories about her time working for the resistance.

Lance couldn’t believe he was here, finally here, after so long.

Couldn’t believe that it was _over_.

It seemed unthinkable, after everything they had been through. When he thought back to those first days in space, exhilarated and overwhelmed in equal measure, he couldn’t fathom that they had finally reached this point.

They’d _won_.

Sure, things weren’t _really_ over. There were still lingering pockets of Galra scattered around various galaxies that would have to be dealt with. Other warlords like Sendak had popped up in the power vacuum after Lotor’s death, and they were sure to cause issues. Team Voltron wasn’t about to retire anytime soon.

But still. They had done it. They had defeated everyone who stood against them, every Galra leader, from Zarkon to Lotor to Sendak. They had freed planet after planet, restoring liberty to the universe that had lived under Galra control for millennia. They had formed a powerful coalition of planets that would work together to govern peacefully.

They had saved _Earth_.

They were almost too late. They’d had a lot of ground to cover -- an unfathomable distance, especially without the castleship, made possible only by some weird trick of the lions. They’d lost time, that mysterious three years they were apparently in the void gone for good. It was almost too much, too much time, too much space. They almost didn’t make it.

But they _had_.

The paladins of Voltron, who had left their home planet and dedicated their lives to fighting an age old war, to freeing alien species across the universe, to defending liberty, were finally home. They arrived to find the Galra finally threatening their home planet. They’d fought so many times. But this time it was personal.

This time, they weren’t fighting for nameless, faceless aliens. This time, they weren’t fighting for ideals. This time, they were fighting for people, _their_ people.

Lance had fought for his family. Fought for his mama and his papa, his brother and sisters, his niece and nephew. Had fought _with_ Veronica, who stubbornly refused to stand aside when she could be of assistance, their family’s persistence (and talents) being put to good use.

It had been a long, hard battle. They’d nearly lost, too, when the final robeast showed up, faster and more powerful than anything they had faced before. But in the end, united as one in Voltron, with the unexpected assistance of Shiro in the Atlas, they had won.

It had also been a long recovery. The battle had definitely taken its toll, and lengthy stays in the Garrison infirmary were necessary for all the paladins. But, while he definitely missed the healing pods and their ability to fix things _quickly_ , Lance didn’t mind. Sure, he was stuck in bed, dealing with myriad injuries, but he had his family with him. After so long in space, so much uncertainty and fear, he never thought he’d have this again. Had worried he’d never see his family again.

And now here they were. After the final paladin -- Pidge, her tiny body having taken a greater toll in the final battle -- had been declared fit to leave the infirmary, the Garrison had thrown a massive party. It was part homecoming for the paladins, part celebration of freedom for the denizens of Earth, part diplomatic event where alliances were built.

It was a sight to see. At all the parties they’d been to while out saving the universe, Lance was used to his friends being the only other humans in sight. Any party before he left Earth was humans only, of course. Now, Lance was in the biggest chamber the Garrison had -- still not big enough, he saw people milling around outside, as well -- surrounded by aliens and humans alike. Pidge was introducing her mother to Ryner, knowing her botanist mother would be fascinated by the Olkari’s biotechnology. All three had excited faces that surely didn’t bode well; Lance was sure that an “experiment” was sure to follow that they would all regret. Hunk was surrounded by Balmerans, who were teasing him and Shay about their emotional reunion. His parents looked on, a little wary about the giant rock people, but smiling at the sight of their son so happy. Shiro was with Coran, talking to various coalition leaders who had come to Earth to help rebuild. Lance was sure that treaties were being drawn up as they spoke, and was happy to know that the relationships they’d built in space would live on, and hopefully continue making the universe a better place. Allura was talking to Romelle and -- _oh no_ \-- Rachel, giggling about something that Lance was sure was going to make his life more difficult. He was glad, though, that Allura finally had some girls to spend time with (Pidge, being a gremlin, didn’t really count). After so long, working so hard, it was nice for Allura to be herself, just a teenage girl at a party.

His eyes lit on the final member of team Voltron and lingered.

_Keith_.

Lance wasn’t sure what to make of Keith. It had been so long since they’d talked, really talked, just the two of them. Not since before Naxzela, which they’d never talked about (but really needed to). Not since Keith disappeared on a mission that apparently lasted two years for him, allowing him to come back changed (bigger, cooler, grizzled). Not since he met his mother and found a massive, teleporting space wolf (who was definitely named Kosmo).

They hadn’t talked. They needed to. But Lance wasn’t sure how. Wasn’t sure where to start. Wasn’t sure where he stood with this Keith, this Keith who was almost a stranger.

Keith caught his eye from across the room and smiled. Lance blushed and looked away, realizing that he had been caught staring. Keith went back to focusing on Kolivan and Krolia, who he was talking to. Looking around the room, Lance realized he was feeling overwhelmed.

He was happy, sure. Thrilled, even. He was home. His family was safe. They had won. Things were great! Really!

Just, right now, looking around at the happy celebrations, Lance couldn’t help but feel the weight of all he’d been through, of all he’d done. He wasn’t ready to celebrate, not yet.

There were too many people. It was loud, everyone talking over each other, and warm, and _crowded_. Lance needed to get out. Ensuring that no one would notice him, he slipped out. He didn’t realize that Keith’s eyes trailed his every move.

Lance wandered the halls of the Galaxy Garrison, musing on how much had changed since he’d unexpectedly left all those years ago, piloting alien technology out of Earth’s atmosphere and straight into someone else’s war.

The Garrison had become a fortress under Galra occupation, the only place on Earth safe from their forces. Thousands of people, maybe more, had made the building and its underground chambers home as they fled the tyranny of Galra rule. Rooms that had previously been for storage were turned into living quarters. Any free space was repurposed. It barely bore a resemblance to the boarding school Lance had called home for most of his teenage years.

But some things never changed. Lance found the simulators where he had learned how to fly, looking almost exactly as he’d left them. It was comforting to know that, no matter what else changed, this remained.

He climbed in a simulator and sat in the pilot’s seat, ruminating on the strange direction his life had taken. He thought back on his last day at the Garrison, though of course he hadn’t known at the time that it would be his last. He remembered saying “they call me the Tailor” and snorted. He’d been so cocky, but in reality he was terrified, unsure of himself and his place. After all, he had only managed to get into the fighter class by a fluke; he had been destined for cargo pilot before Keith dropped out, once again changing Lance’s life (even if indirectly). Lance remembered the dressing down he and his team had gotten from Iverson, the sobering reminder of all the ways they could mess up. All the ways they _did_ mess up.

But in the end, did it really matter? In the end, they had saved the universe. It was a hollow thought, containing none of the pride Lance had thought he’d feel.

Lance looked around the empty cockpit and reflected that it really was weird to be in there alone. Before, he’d had Pidge and Hunk, his faithful team, by his side. He’d been the pilot, Hunk the engineer, Pidge the communication specialist. But that had all changed. They were all pilots, now. All _soldiers_. They’d been caught up in this strange war, just kids, really. They were forced to grow up too quickly.

Lance was happy to know that they were going to be okay. Pidge had her family, and so did Hunk. They’d learned and grown in space. They would both probably carry the burden of what had happened for a long time, like Lance, but both seemed like they were ready to try and start moving on.

Lance wasn’t.

Space had changed him. In some ways, it had changed him for the better. He was a much better pilot now, in ways he never would have accomplished through the Garrison. Flying Blue, and then Red, taught him to be adaptable, taught him to rely on his instincts and trust his equipment. He’d gotten faster, better.

He’d also learned combat skills, both long range and short range, given his bayard’s new form. He could now defend himself or anyone else, if the need arose. Hell, he’d gone toe to toe with Galra twice his size when necessary, if it meant protecting his team.

The team had become his family, his only connections to home while out in space. Before, Hunk had been his best friend and Pidge had been his strange and awkward teammate. Now, they were closer than he had thought possible. They were closer than siblings, even. Lance knew siblings. Veronica had helped raise him, being the grounding presence of his childhood. Marco had teased him and taught him in equal measure, the perfect picture of a big brother. Rachel, as his twin sister, used to be the closest person in the world to Lance. They were two halves of one whole, his mama used to say. But the bonds forged in battle were more intense, and he knew he would die in a heartbeat, no hesitation, if it meant Pidge or Hunk could live. (Not that he wouldn’t do the same for anyone in his family, or even strangers. Just, he was protective of his teammates. They were special).

But not all of the effects of his time in space were positive.

Lance traced the calluses on his fingers, worn into his skin from holding his gun, and tried to remember the carefree, cheerful kid he had been, tried to remember “the Tailor.” Obviously, as a fighter-class pilot, he had thought about combat. The Garrison was a military unit, so they’d been trained in combat (he didn’t become a sharpshooter on natural skill alone). But that had all been conceptual. Theoretical. It was unlikely that any of them would actually see combat. It was just good to be prepared.

But nothing could have prepared him for what it was actually like. Nothing could have prepared him for war. The first time he had shot a soldier, an actual soldier, not just a Galra drone, he had been violently sick -- but _after_ , after the mission, after they were away safe. His hands had trembled and he hadn’t touched his bayard for days. But then the next mission came along and he packed away all his thoughts and grabbed his bayard and suited up. And eventually, compartmentalizing became second nature. Eventually, he didn’t flinch as he pulled the trigger. Lance thought that might be worse than the shaking or the sickness.

Who was he that he could take a life without hesitation? Was he still the boy his mama raised to sanctify life? Was he still the kid who had helped injured animals? Was he still _Lance_? Or had Lance faded away into the paladin of Voltron, first blue, then red?

Before he could really start spiraling, though, Lance heard a person clear their throat at the entrance of the simulator. It was too dark to make out more than a vague outline -- he hadn’t bothered turning on the lights -- but it didn’t matter. He knew who it was.

Who it always was.

“You left the party,” said Keith in a voice that was just a shade deeper than it had been before. Nobody who wasn’t obsessed with Keith would be likely to notice, but Lance noticed everything when it came to Keith.

Keith drew near as Lance mulled over the question, unsure of how to answer. In the end, he decided on honesty.

“It was a bit much in there,” he confessed, seeing Keith nod as he sat in the copilot’s seat, close enough to see now.

“I know what you mean. A lot of people. I’m surprised you got overwhelmed though, you love parties. And I thought you’d be impossible to separate from your family after so long.”

“I thought so, too. But it’s different. I don’t know. Maybe _I’m_ different.”

Keith hummed in agreement, and they settled into a comfortable silence.

Lance’s eyes were well adjusted to the darkness in the cockpit, so he let them wander over Keith. Ever since Keith returned, Krolia and Romelle in tow, they had been so busy, one thing after the next. Now, finally at rest, Lance catalogued all the changes in Keith. He was taller, now, just about the same height as Lance (though Lance swore he was still taller). His shoulders had filled out, and Lance wasn’t sure that stupid jacket would even fit him anymore. Given that Keith was instead wearing a black leather jacket that looked worn in and comfortable, Lance guessed he was right. Between the black jacket (fitting, for the black paladin) and the low ponytail Keith had pulled his even longer hair into, Lance was stunned anew by how attractive Keith was.

He’d always thought Keith was attractive, of course, even when they were constantly fighting. But this new Keith -- “grizzled” Keith -- made his mouth dry and his stomach flip.

“I never got a chance to apologize,” Keith said out of nowhere, breaking the silence. Clearly sensing Lance’s confusion, Keith continued talking. “For blowing you off, when I returned. The mission was important, but you’re important too. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Lance was stunned. He knew Keith was more sensitive than he looked, had seen Keith open and vulnerable, but this self-awareness was new.

“I -- It’s okay,” he stammered. “You were right. Lotor needed to be stopped. We didn’t have time for chitchat.”

“Still,” Keith rebutted, swinging around to look Lance in the eye. “It wasn’t a very nice way to say hello. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Lance offered with a crooked smile, butterflies erupting in his chest when Keith returned it.

“You seemed pretty deep in thought when I got here,” Keith offered. It was an opening to talk about what was bothering Lance, if he wanted.

He decided he did want. If anyone could understand him, it was Keith.

“I just was thinking of how much had changed,” he began. Keith settled in, looking attentive as Lance continued. “Obviously the Garrison has changed a lot, it barely looks the way it used to. But it’s more than that. I’ve changed, too. And I wonder if I’m recognizable anymore. It was nice to find this thing, a familiar place.”

Keith chuckled, a quiet sound in the dark.

“Yeah, we certainly spent a lot of time in these things.”

“You were such a show-off,” Lance said, the humor in his voice removing any potential sting in the comment.

“Me?” Keith retorted. “At least I didn’t go around calling myself ‘Tailor!’”

They laughed together before falling back into a comfortable silence. It was soothing enough that Lance decided to speak up.

“What if I’ve changed too much?” It was barely a whisper, but in the quiet of the cockpit, far removed from the raucous party, it was easy to hear.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just… We went through so much out there, you know? And we _did_ so much. _I_ did so much. I did things I never could have contemplated. What if I can’t go back? What if I’ve lost myself? I’m back on Earth, back with my family, and yet I feel further away than ever. How can I look my mama in the eye when I’ve _killed_ people, Keith? Who even _am_ I anymore?”

Lance’s voice -- and, he’s pretty sure, his heart -- broke.

“Hey,” Keith said, his voice surprisingly low and warm. “Who are you? You’re Lance. Same as you’ve always been. Lance the sharpshooter, Loverboy Lance. Paladin of Voltron. Lance who’s always got my back. Sure, things have changed. You did things. But you did what needed to be done. We all did. It doesn’t make us bad people. Sure, your mother may be shocked. But can’t you see how proud she is of you? You saved so many lives, Lance. You’re a hero. You may be lost right now but your family is here and they will help you. We all will. You’ll find who you are, even if it’s not the same person it always was. But the core remains, Lance. And for you that core is your family. And they love you. That’s what families do.”

“Easy for you to say,” Lance muttered darkly, despite being touched to hear such praise from Keith, of all people. “Your mom has killed more people than the rest of us combined.”

“Lance,” Keith said warningly, though there was amusement in his tone. He put a warm hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Trust me. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get through this, together. It’s going to take work, a lot of work, and it’s going to take help. _Professional_ help. Honestly, all of us could use someone to help work through all that we experienced out there. We went through things no teenagers should have to deal with.”

Lance heard an off note, and turned to look at Keith. It sounded like he wasn’t the only one dealing with something. He made an inquisitive noise, and saw Keith tense, before letting out a big sigh.

“I never… told anyone,” Keith began hesitantly. “I never talked about it. Naxzela.”

Lance understood the tension, then. Something had happened at Naxzela, they all knew it, but no one knew _what_. He leaned closer to Keith, trying to give the other boy some comfort, but didn’t speak for fear of derailing the conversation. He sensed that this was something Keith needed to get out.

“When we were all at Naxzela, when we were losing, about to lose everything… I made a choice. I decided that it would be best for the galaxy if Voltron survived the encounter. It would be best for _me_ if you guys made it out. I knew the ship needed to be destroyed, it was the only way to save you all. But,” his voice faltered. “But I didn’t have any weapons strong enough to penetrate the shield. So I made the choice. My ship could do the job, if I flew straight at the shield. It would let the rebels save the rest of the day, it would let you guys escape. Obviously, before I crashed Lotor showed up and things went a different day. But I thought I was going to die. I was _ready_ to die. Ready to do whatever it took to make sure you got out.”

Lance listened, horrified to hear what had actually happened at Naxzela, horrified to hear that they -- that _he_ \-- had almost lost Keith. He started to understand why Keith had pulled away even more after Naxzela.

A million emotions flew through Lance’s head. Terror, rather too late, at what had almost happened to Keith. Relief, that it _hadn’t_. Gratitude to Lotor, something he never thought he’d feel. Sorrow at what Keith must have gone through, at the burden he carried.

_Anger_.

“How could you do that?” Anger was easier to deal with. Easier to lash out than to deal with everything else. “What makes you think that any of us would have wanted you to do that? Sacrifice yourself for us? Are you insane? We would have lost it. Can you imagine Shiro? Did you even think of what we’d want?”

“It didn’t matter what you would have wanted, it mattered that you _lived_ ,” Keith snarled back, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I would do anything to keep you safe. You guys are my family. You’re more important!”

“You don’t get to make that decision!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are _you_ the only one who gets to sacrifice himself?”

The words rang in the air as Lance faltered.

“W-what?”

“Allura told me.” Lance had never heard Keith sound so defeated. “She told me what happened at the Omega shield. She said that she almost died, but at the last minute you jumped in front of her and took the blow. And… and she told me that you died, instead.”

“I came back,” Lance rushed to clarify. He didn’t regret his actions. Allura was important. She was going to save the universe. He was just a kid from Cuba.

“You still _died_ , Lance. You of all people have no right to judge me for Naxzela. Don’t you dare tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing.”

Keith’s eyes flashed in the low light of the simulator, a fierce look on his face. Lance realized, in that moment, that he and Keith were the same. They understood each other. And he remembered how, before everything went wrong, he had started to think of Keith as his best friend.

Even if nothing else ever happened between them, he didn’t want to lose that friendship. It meant too much.

‘You’re right,” he admitted sheepishly. “But maybe from now on we can stop the self-sacrificing bullshit? If we work together I know we can take on anything. I watch your back, you watch mine?”

Keith grinned.

“Sounds like a plan.”

After another long silence -- Lance couldn’t say how long -- Keith cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly, looking away from Lance.

“So…” he began, sounding forcibly nonchalant. “You and Allura?”

“Me and Allura what?” Lance didn’t follow.

“Come on, Lance,” Keith scoffed, a hint of bitterness in his tone. “I may have been away for a while but I’m not blind.”

At Lance’s continued bewildered silence, Keith rolled his eyes.

“I know you two are together! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lance couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Keith thought he was _dating Allura_? Did Keith really not realize that Lance only had eyes for one (half) alien?

“T-together?” He sputtered in disbelief. “Me and Allura? We’re not together!”

“You don’t have to lie to me. I’ve seen the way you look at each other, and you’re always together. For crying out loud, Lance, you _died_ for her.”

“I -- you’re wrong. Sure I may have had a crush on her at some point, but who didn’t? But that’s in the past. Allura got her heart broken by Lotor, she’s in no place to start a relationship and I’m not looking to date her anyway. We’re just friends. I helped her in a tough spot. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Keith blinked, looking embarrassed, before fidgeting again.

“Keith…” Lance hazarded. “Are you jealous?”

“What -- no! Why would I be jealous?”

Lance grinned in triumph -- that was very clearly a lie -- before remembering one little (purple) detail.

“You certainly sound jealous, though I don’t see why when you’ve got _Acxa_.”

This time, Keith was the one looking bewildered.

“Acxa?” His tone was pure confusion. “What about her?”

“Well _I’m_ not blind either. Clearly there’s something going on with the two of you if she betrayed the Galra for you!”

“What? Acxa saw that the Galra were wrong on her own. I just showed her a better way. That’s all.”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t notice she’s pretty,” Lance snarked, annoyed at how bitter he sounded.

“Lance,” Keith stated emphatically. “I’m _gay_.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I wasn’t gay, I wouldn’t be interested in Acxa. She’s not my type.” Keith shot him a significant look. “I like people who are a little less purple. And a little more _friendly_.”

At that moment, a hand reached out and touched Lance’s, just briefly. It was warm, and softer than he would’ve thought. Before Keith could think twice and pull away, Lance flipped his hand over and clasped Keith’s in his own.

_Oh_.

“You’ve got calluses,” he blurted, unable to stop his mouth. He looked away, blushing and cringing, but Keith only laughed quietly and squeezed Lance’s hand.

“So do you. What did you expect?”

They shared a quick, secretive smile. This time, when they fell silent, neither spoke up. Instead, they sat there, holding hands in the dark.

It was -- _something_. It was a start. And later, after they’d left the simulator and headed to their respective bedrooms, neither having any desire to return to the party, Lance would reflect that it was the start of something good.

As they walked through the Garrison hallways, neither let go of the other’s hand.


	5. guess I’ll just stumble on home to my cats… alone… unless you wanna come along

What a party.

It was just over two months since their homecoming party at the Garrison. The time since then had been a flurry of activity, as they prepared to head off to continue defending the universe. Lance had been right; the war wasn’t quite over. But what remained were minor skirmishes, cleaning up the last remnants of the Galra empire and making way for a united Galra confederacy, which the Blade of Marmora was spearheading.

Anticipating a great deal of rebuilding in their future, Coran, Shiro, and the Garrison leaders had gone all out for the Atlas. They had packed the massive ship full of supplies and personnel, preparing for any contingency. Pidge was thrilled to have both her parents on board, her mother running the hydroponics department while her father was Shiro’s chief engineer. Since Matt was sticking with the rebels (and NX-7 in particular), the Holts were happy to keep a close eye on their younger child.

Hunk and Lance had said tearful goodbyes to their families, who were staying on Earth to help with the rebuilding there. They had no desire to head off into space and run into who knows what along the way.

Well.. _most_ of them had no desire.

Lance looked across the room where Veronica was sprawled on a couch, suspiciously close to Acxa. He made a mental note to keep an eye on _that_ situation before reflecting on how he got here.

He was in space, a famous warrior who helped end a war, helping with rebuilding efforts across the galaxy. He had been a star of a massively popular touring show. He’d met mermaids. He’d died.

He was twenty years old.

Twenty years old _today_.

For many years, birthdays were not a focus. While Lance was at the Garrison, birthdays were heralded by a video call with his parents (and whoever else happened to be around). Otherwise, it was a normal day for the cadet, filled with classes and chores and all the other duties a Garrison student had. Most years, he didn’t even get a cake, unless Hunk managed to sneak in the kitchen after hours and make a tiny but perfect two person cake. Those were the good years.

In space, birthdays weren’t even noticed. As time went on, the paladins lost track of time. It was hard to keep a calendar in mind when no one even used the same units. They tried, at first. They compared units, tracking ticks versus seconds, vargas versus hours, even phoebs versus months. But it was too hard to keep track. Earth dates shifted out of focus, and they only had a vague idea of how long they’d even been in space. It didn’t help that days tended to blur together when you were fighting an endless war. Then of course there was the time gap while they were in the void. What was seconds for them was three whole years for the rest of the galaxy. (Not to mention Keith’s two year journey on a space whale. This time thing was _really_ confusing.) But Pidge and Sam Holt had worked together and figured out just how much time had passed for the paladins since they left the Garrison that fateful night so long ago.

It had been two years, apparently. Two birthdays, gone. Lance didn’t know when he’d turned eighteen and officially become an adult. Didn’t know when nineteen had come and gone without a single glance.

And now he was twenty. He felt simultaneously absolutely ancient and appallingly young. How was it that everything he’d lived through was only twenty years of life? How was it that he was already twenty years old?

It was a weird feeling. But not a bad one, and that had a lot to do with the party.

He had Veronica to thank (blame?) for that. They had spent a lot of time talking in the past two months. As much as Lance grumbled, he was thrilled to have his sister on the Atlas with them. It was true that he had missed his family over the apparently two years he’d been gone. But when he came back, he struggled to reconnect. He spent as much time with them as he could, but it wasn’t enough, not while he still had work to do. And they just couldn’t understand what he’d been through, though goodness knows they tried. And he loved them for that.

But Veronica? Veronica had been an active participant in the human resistance. Veronica had worked for the military who engaged with and thwarted alien invaders. Veronica had been presumed lost and survived on her own, even managing to rescue other survivors (including their family, which he could never thank her for enough).

Veronica understood what Lance had been through. And with her patience, he had haltingly told her everything. He told her two years’ worth of triumphs and traumas, of parties and pain. Slowly but surely, with Veronica’s help and her judgment-free love, he was starting the path toward healing.

But some things Veronica wouldn’t let go. Like the birthday thing.

McClains liked their birthdays. At home, before Lance had left for the Garrison and left his family behind, it had always been a massive celebration, family and friends and strangers alike coming by to let loose. So when Veronica learned that it had been years since Lance had had a birthday party, well, she’d gone about fixing that situation.

And so they’d partied. Earlier there had been a massive, shipwide celebration, ostensibly to mark them leaving Earth, even though that had been several days prior. But Veronica made sure to point out that it was also Lance’s birthday, and many crewmembers had cheered for the red paladin, who was a favorite for his sunny disposition.

Later, they’d gotten a small gathering of what Lance thought of as the “inner circle.” The paladins, Shiro, the Holts, Krolia, Romelle, and Acxa had all gotten together to help Veronica celebrate her little brother. These were the people who really knew what it was like, who really knew _Lance_.

It was far nicer than the earlier party, simply because people knew him. And far nicer than any party he’d been at for the coalition or for Voltron, because this time he had people who loved him surrounding him. He could be himself. He could relax.

It had been a great party. It was low-key, but that didn’t mean they didn’t let loose. With Veronica planning, things had gotten a little crazy. But now, as Lance looked around the room, he couldn’t stifle a smile. The lounge Veronica had commandeered that evening was small and cozy, perfect for their small party. After a long night chatting and having fun, the party had dwindled down. The Holts had bundled Pidge off the bed over her emphatic protests -- “I’m a paladin I don’t _have_ a bedtime!” -- and said their goodnights. Hunk had slipped away an hour ago to call Shay. Veronica and Acxa were sleeping on one couch, Shiro on another. Allura and Romelle _had_ been giggling and chatting quietly where they sat on the floor, but Lance noticed that they, too, appeared to have drifted off, their heads close together.

Only he, Keith, and Krolia were left at the party. Then, Krolia looked at Keith, made a weird face, and announced, a little too loudly, that she was going on a perimeter patrol.

That left two.

Lance and Keith stood looking awkwardly at each other, neither sure what to say.

It had been two months since the simulator. Two months ago Keith and Lance had said some things and decidedly _not_ said enough. Two months ago they’d held hands in the quiet darkness.

And then they never talked about it.

To be fair, it had been a busy two months. Getting the Atlas ready for departure, saying goodbye to family (Lance had spent a full week at his parents’ house), formally graduating from the Garrison in a pointless ceremony… they’d done a lot.

But Lance also couldn’t pretend that he had been afraid to raise the topic. He _may_ have avoided Keith. Just a little.

Because honestly, what would he even say? “I really like you and I have for a long time and I think maybe you like me too, cause you held my hand but what does it _mean_?” Yeah, that’ll go over well.

But as he looked at Keith now, alone (or mostly alone) for the first time in two months, he wondered. He saw Keith fidget, unsure of what to do with his hands. He was pretty sure it wasn’t just his imagination that saw Keith’s yearning look.

Maybe… maybe it _was_ time to talk.

But before he could open his mouth, Keith spoke.

“I guess I’ll just -- go.”

“Wait,” Lance started, reaching out. “I was going to go visit the lions. Red has been nagging me all day about why I didn’t inform her of my lifedate or something, and she roped Blue into it, too. So I figured I’d go spend some time down in the hangar.  You could -- come with me? If you wanted?”

Keith’s shoulders relaxed, just slightly, and Lance knew they were both feeling awkward. But Keith smiled -- “yeah, I’d like that” -- and they set off. They were walking side by side, fingers occasionally brushing. After the fourth time, Keith reached out and grabbed Lance’s hand in his own. Lance shot a quick look at the other boy, whose face was turned away but his ears were slightly pink, and grinned.

Just before they got to the hangar, Lance stopped them.

“We should talk,” he said, before backpedaling quickly when Keith immediately tensed back up. “Nothing bad! Just. I feel like it needs to be said.”

Lance inhaled deeply, straightened his shoulders, and looked Keith square in the eye. He squeezed the other boy’s hand.

“Keith, I like you. I _really_ like you. A lot. More than a lot. And I think that maybe you like me too, but I don’t want to assume, so I was wonder--”

He was cut off by a pair of soft lips against his. He stiffened for a moment, then sank into it.

He’d thought about kissing Keith a lot, over the last two years. More than he’d care to admit, even before he finally admitted to himself that the reason he craved Keith’s attention had less to do with rivalry and more to do with another sort of feeling. But nothing compared to the reality.

Keith was warm, so warm, fitting the former guardian of fire. His hands, rough with calluses but oh so gentle, came up to cradle Lance’s face. Now that they were the same height, neither had to stretch to reach, and they fit against each other perfectly, like they were made for this, like they were always meant to be kissing.

It lasted an eternity. It lasted a heartbeat.

It ended too soon, when a rumble of amusement -- _two_ rumbles of amusement -- came from the hangar. They pulled apart slowly, Keith reluctant to let go of Lance, before Keith turned to yell a quick “shut _up_ Red” into the hangar. He turned back to look at Lance, who was blown away by the sight of a freshly kissed Keith. Keith looked softer than usual, a gentle smile on his face. His eyes, his beautiful eyes, were large and shining. If he hadn’t been halfway to love before, Lance surely was now.

“For the record,” Keith said through the most beautiful smile Lance had ever seen, “I like you too. More than a lot. And I don’t know what’s going to happen, what’s going to come next. But I do know one thing: we’ll deal with it together. Because there’s nobody I’d rather have at my side.”

“Lance and Keith, neck and neck,” Lance grinned.

“Lance and Keith, hand in hand,” Keith replied.

After one quick, final kiss -- how could he resist that face? -- Lance pulled Keith towards the door. They entered the hanger to a general air of _finally_ from two giant robot cats, and shared a quick eyeroll as they wandered over to where the lions were sitting. As they settled down between Red and Blue, Lance tucked up against Keith’s side, he thought that this was the best birthday he’d ever had.


End file.
